Chapter 9: The Corpse Fragrance Flower

At that moment, my heart skipped a beat—a sudden, inexplicable wave of dread swept through my entire body. What exactly was the faint, flickering green firelight up ahead?

With questions and a thread of fear gnawing at me, I pressed onward. There was no turning back now; gritting my teeth, I continued, still bent over as the tunnel forced me to crawl. The closer I got, the clearer the green light became, until I felt the cramped passage gradually open up. The space widened, and I was finally able to straighten my back.

That was when I saw a pitch-black coffin ahead. The chamber was not large—about the size of a bedroom—its entire expanse shrouded in an eerie green glow, which seemed to emanate from the coffin itself.

Ever since I was young, I’d had a penchant for the strange and mysterious, especially anything to do with ancient tombs, and I’d heard my share of tales about the world beneath the earth. Yet, now that I was experiencing it firsthand, I couldn’t help but feel my heart pounding with unease.

There was no other way out that I could see. By what I’d heard and guessed, this seemed like an antechamber, but that was pure speculation—I’d never had any real experience with such things.

In the end, curiosity won out over hesitation. I drew my black-gold dagger, gripped it in a reverse hold, and mused over the old legends—zombies and such. If there really was a zombie in there, I wouldn’t mind testing my luck against it. With that in mind, I approached the ancient coffin step by step. The closer I got, the more obvious it became—this was no ordinary coffin, but a grand sarcophagus, massive and ancient, covered in jet-black carvings that seemed to depict some kind of pattern. Despite its age, the sarcophagus was remarkably well-preserved.

I didn’t believe this was the sarcophagus of some so-called ancient king—it was far too humble for that. More likely, it belonged to a buried attendant. Yet, that ghostly green light made the entire scene unsettlingly bizarre.

As I drew near, I started and stared—what glimmered green before me was not a flame, but a flower. An odd, intoxicating fragrance drifted from its petals, filling me with a strange sense of calm. The flower itself was fascinatingly strange, almost wickedly beautiful; it had nine petals, its stem extending from within the sarcophagus. The entire blossom was a translucent green, glowing from within, casting an ethereal light.

Suddenly, a word surfaced in my mind—a name: the Corpse-Fragrant Flower. Legend had it this plant grew within coffins, feeding on corpses, never seeing the sun. When it bloomed, it released a unique scent. Of course, I’d never seen one myself; it was just something the old folks used to talk about. Nowadays, with cremation the norm, such things had become myth. No one knew what color it should be, or what it truly looked like.

But I wasn’t here to play archaeologist—I was here to break a supposed curse. I had no time or interest to investigate this legendary flower.

Surveying the chamber, I noticed that the space, about the size of a bedroom, had clearly been hewn by human hands; marks of carving and polishing were everywhere. The walls were adorned with countless patterns, resembling totems. I even spotted the depiction of a giant serpent, which, on closer inspection, looked remarkably familiar—wasn’t this the very python that had attacked me outside? In the mural, the python was drawn to resemble a mythical dragon, being worshipped by a multitude.

Lost in studying the mural, I was suddenly jolted by a sharp clattering sound. It came so abruptly that I was caught completely off guard. Startled, I instinctively drew my black-gold dagger, gripping it in my palm as I spun around with lightning speed. That was when I realized the sound had come from the sarcophagus itself. What happened next nearly short-circuited my brain—it was utterly inconceivable.

I admit I’m a skeptic, but what I saw then sent a chill through me. I have never feared men; I’d confidently take on a dozen trained fighters. But this—this was the kind of terror that crawled out from the depths of the soul.

The lid of the sarcophagus was being slowly pried open, inch by inch, as if by an invisible hand. The Corpse-Fragrant Flower looked as if it had come to life, pushing its way outward, its green-glowing petals unfolding with unnatural speed.

When faced with fear, I tend to become reckless. The greater the terror, the more I press forward, determined to conquer it with courage. Besides, I always believe in striking first—whatever was inside, if it was dangerous, standing still would hardly save me.

With that thought, I lunged forward, twisted my waist, and landed a spinning kick squarely on the sarcophagus lid, knocking it wide open—almost completely dislodged. The Corpse-Fragrant Flower abruptly stopped moving. Steeling myself, I stepped closer, peered inside—and froze. The sarcophagus was empty, a bottomless void. The flower’s roots plunged deep into the darkness, vanishing from sight.

Puzzled, I wondered why there would be an empty sarcophagus—and what had caused the lid to move? I glanced at the glowing flower. Was this bizarre bloom to blame?

As I pondered, the flower suddenly sprang to life. Its vines unfurled and whipped toward me. Caught off-guard, I was wrapped tightly twice around. Panicking, I slashed at a tendril with my black-gold dagger. The blade was as sharp as ever, cleaving through the vine and spraying green sap everywhere. I had no idea if the stuff was poisonous, so I dodged back—but it wasn’t over. The flower, now fully alive, sent more and more tendrils speeding out, growing at a terrifying rate. I hacked at them relentlessly, but there were simply too many.

In no time, I was completely entangled. The vines were surprisingly strong, dragging me toward the sarcophagus. It seemed intent on pulling me inside. As my head was about to be dragged in, I steeled myself and slashed down with all my might at the flower. I must have struck true, but the vines did not lose their strength. In a flash, I was pulled into the sarcophagus.

Darkness engulfed me. The space was tight, suffocating. I realized the shaft went deep. As I tumbled down, the vines gradually lost their grip and slipped off my body, leaving me to fall freely.

With a heavy thud, I landed hard. Before I could gather my wits, an ominous sensation crept over me. I quickly pulled out my flashlight and swept it around. What I saw made my skin crawl—this place resembled an underground mine, but what I had fallen into was a massive pit—a pit of the dead.

All around me, bleached bones littered the ground, beyond counting, piled in grotesque heaps. The Corpse-Fragrant Flower’s roots were anchored at the pit’s center. No wonder such a monstrous plant could grow here—this was its breeding ground.

The sight brought one word to mind: a sacrificial pit. I’d heard many stories and legends of such places, and this matched them perfectly.

Was the Corpse-Fragrant Flower trying to drag me down here as fertilizer? It made sense—the corpses below had long since turned to bones, and it needed new nourishment. I couldn’t help but shudder at the plant’s malign intelligence—hunting for its own food like some monstrous flower from African legends.

Yet, strangely, my fear began to subside. Surrounded by so many bones, one more corpse hardly mattered. I moved to step forward and nearly tripped, righting myself as I swept my flashlight around the vast, shadowy chamber. The place was immense; the darkness in the distance was impenetrable, and I could make out nothing. It looked like a vast mine, but given the era of the ancient king, such large-scale mines couldn’t have existed. This had to be a sacrificial pit.

When ancient kings built their tombs, it was common practice to bury the workers alive. This must have been the fate of those here. But how the enormous Corpse-Fragrant Flower came to be here was anyone’s guess.

I walked on, step by cautious step. No matter how hardened I was, standing atop a mountain of bones was unsettling. The sooner I found a way out, the better. I’d barely gone a few paces when I heard the distinct sound of footsteps—clear as day, echoing one after another. Spinning around, I saw nothing out of place.

The sea of white bones added to the eerie atmosphere. I hurried on, picking my way through the tangled remains, ever alert. In a place so uncanny, who knew what might suddenly leap out at me?

Just as the thought crossed my mind, I felt something seize my foot. Looking down, I felt my scalp prickle with dread. A skeletal hand had latched onto my ankle. I yanked my leg upward, and the mostly intact skeleton shifted with me. I struggled free, telling myself it was just a coincidence—yes, it had to be. With one hard pull, the skeleton crumbled into a scatter of bones.